


moving lairs

by Lukra (49percentchanceofbees)



Category: Flight Rising
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2019-09-12 14:06:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16874277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/49percentchanceofbees/pseuds/Lukra
Summary: Clan Lukra moves from the Crystalspine Reaches to the Starwood Strand.





	1. Chapter 1

“What do you think of this place?” Acrux asked.

A stream meandered through a shallow depression – not really worthy of the word “valley” – between two ridges. They were deep in the Starwood now, and great pale trees dotted the area, purple leaves spread wide, already twinkling with the oncoming dusk. The ridges were the pink rock of the Crystalspine Reaches, a touch of home, and they sparkled and bounced the light from Acrux’s deepsea bulb back and forth.

To Acrux’s ears alone, the trees whispered, _home, home, home_ , and the rocks sang their own song, and Nessa’s voice said, _Ari will be proud of me._

“It looks … well, more defensible than most of the open forest,” Lioska said. “And a source of fresh water … I’ll need to investigate the headspring of that stream, to make sure it can’t be easily blocked or poisoned.”

“Are you expecting to weather a war out here? A siege?”

Lioska was silent for a moment – silent even to Acrux’s particular talents. Then she said, “You never know, do you? Better safe than sorry.”

Acrux felt strongly reminded that he was the only dragon on this little expedition who had actually spent much time in Clan Lukra before Aridatha arrived with Lioska and Nessa in tow – the only one who’d been happy with the clan as it was. And it was definitely Aridatha leading them now; a conversation with Lioska or Nessa now quickly revealed that, even without Acrux’s gifts.

“What do you think?” Lioska said, turning to the group’s last member, Sunfall.

The coatl blinked and peered around. “Reminds me of an arena.”

Lioska frowned at him, clearly finding the statement irrelevant, but Acrux heard: _crowds cheering sun searing what’s the point what am I fighting for_.

“Are you all right, Sunfall?” Acrux asked aloud.

“Of course I am.” Another blink, a confused stare. Whatever’d happened in that arena, it clearly didn’t weigh too heavily on the younger dragon’s mind. No level of deadpan would have hidden an adverse response from Acrux.

Lioska stalked across the depression, head thrusting back and forth to closely examine the area. Nessa fluttered up into a nearby tree; Acrux soon lost sight of her in the branches.

“Are we staying here?” Sunfall asked.

“For tonight, certainly,” Lioska threw over her shoulder as she vanished into the gloom.

“We could build lean-tos from the ridges,” Nessa called from above. “We’ll need timber, and canvas, and … I imagine most of the clan would prefer to have a say in how and where their quarters are built. We should stake out the public areas first, somewhere for hoard and hatchery. And I don’t know a thing about planning gardens.”

Sighing, Acrux settled down beside the stream, raising one wing. They had brought tents, but why go to all the trouble of pitching them when you had a perfectly good natural substitute? For some days now, the smaller dragons had slept beneath Acrux’s wings. Of course, they could scarcely carry a tent large enough for an imperial.

He glanced around at the trees. Acrux still was not clear on how Nessa intended to accommodate dragons of his size – or, worse, Cobalt’s – in her lair designs. In the mountains, there was always the option of just making the tunnels bigger, but how large a shelter could they conceivably construct here?

Sunfall had already vanished under Acrux’s wings, apparently satisfied with his cursory survey of the area. Acrux let his wings droop. He was tired; they’d been wandering the Strand for a long time, looking for a suitable area. The sun had fully set now, but the radiance of the leaves above left the area in bluish twilight. Acrux tipped his head back and tried to count the false stars.

Eventually, Nessa came out of the trees, spouting architectural terms for Acrux’s ears only, and joined Sunfall in slumber. Lioska took longer, but eventually the wildclaw wandered out of the dark.

“Well?” Acrux said, hearing her approach without lowering his head. “What do you think?”

“It’s passable. I suspect we could do better. The stream is defensible, though.”

Acrux looked down at the smaller dragon. “We’ve been looking for a long time, Lioska.”

W _e might be two days’ journey from a perfect site and never know because we settled …_ The idea clearly rankled Lioska. But she sighed and said, “You’re right. I wonder how Aridatha is doing.”

Acrux shrugged – carefully, to avoid disturbing Sunfall and Nessa. “She’s quite a visionary young dragon.”

 _Don’t condescend to us!_ Aloud, Lioska said only, “We should send for help with the construction. Who do you think would be useful? And, gods, where are we going to find building materials?”

“We probably already have a lot in the hoard back in the mountains,” Acrux mused, “though it may not be efficient to transport it all … Gavin or Talva could lay out gardens. Nesita constructed the old lair mostly by herself, so she knows what she’s doing.”

“I don’t know if Nesita is with us,” Lioska pointed out.

Acrux nodded acknowledgment and continued, “The guardians could help with the heavy lifting.”

 _Not Telyn or Cobalt? No, their vaunted dignity_. Acrux was glad to hear that Lioska understood exactly why he hadn’t suggested his mate as one of their laborers.

“We should send for Gavin and Geras,” he suggested. “Offer Nesita a role here, too – maybe she’ll be more interested in moving if she has input into the site.”

Who else?

“Kelsus could help build fae-sized nests, up in the branches. He’d probably tag along with Geras anyway, so why not invite him? I would leave Moros and Wanderer out of it, though, unless you want to spend half your time searching for lost tools.”

Lioska bowed her head. “Can you send a message back magically?”

Acrux nodded. “I brought something I built for just that purpose.”

“Good. We’ll send it off in the morning.” With that, Lioska slipped under the imperial’s wings. They were done for the night. Acrux wondered what tomorrow would hold.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dear Aridatha,_

_We have found an adequate site for the new lair. We will need additional claws and materials to begin construction. Acrux recommends that you send Gavin, Geras, and Kelsus, and ask Nesita if she wishes to join us. Extra claws would not be refused, if you find anyone else interested in helping us._

_Nessa will not let me send this missive unless I include her good wishes, which I have now done. Also enclosed is a small sketch of the area and some potential layouts._

_I eagerly await word from you._

_Lioska_

Aridatha crumpled the note from Lioska in her claws and rapped softly on the stone beside the entrance to Nesita’s room. Of course, none of the dragons Lioska asked for had even agreed to the idea of moving yet, but Aridatha would just have to deal with that. She had to admit, she doubted their remaining allies here would be much help with construction. Telyn, Zarya, Cypress … maybe Frip, though Frip was … well, Frip. It did not seem to Aridatha like a good idea to rely on that nocturne for anything.

She didn’t want to admit it, but part of Aridatha hoped that Nesita would be out. She spent most of her time in the hatchery, anyway …

“Oh.” Nesita’s head poked out from the bead curtain that hung in her doorway. “Aridatha. How … How may I help you?”

“May I come in?”

Nesita nodded, graciously, so Aridatha followed the tundra into her own cavern.

Aridatha wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but this wasn’t it. Nesita’s cave was almost completely bare, just a hollow scraped out of the pink rock, crystals sparkling and seeming to move in the magical illumination. There were two scrolls on the floor and nothing else.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Aridatha?” Nesita said. Her tone sounded carefully neutral, carefully controlled.

“You know that Lioska and Acrux took an expedition to the Starwood Strand? To look for a new lair site?”

“Yes.” Still, Aridatha could not tease an ounce of meaning out of Nesita’s tone. Except, perhaps, a certain cautious reserve.

“They’re found somewhere.” Aridatha waved Nessa’s sketches like a battle flag. “They’re ready to start building. And they – _we_ – would like your help.”

The tundra’s eyes widened, but before she could respond, the curtain parted again, beads clinking against each other, and the spiral’s head poking through said, “Nesita, I need – oh! I’m sorry; I didn’t realize you were busy.”

Nesita quickly smiled at the spiral, clearly rather glad for the interruption. “It’s fine, Lorette. What do you need?”

Aridatha frowned and said nothing. She didn’t know Lorette – or, rather, she knew of her, as she knew of every dragon within the clan she’d chosen to claim as her own, but she had never spoken to the spiral. Lorette had neither advocated nor opposed the recent changes, although now she wouldn’t look directly at Aridatha, conspicuously avoiding her eyes.

“It’s – I …” Lorette had to stop and take a deep breath. “I’ve decided to leave, Nesita.”

 _I should have already known that_. Aridatha was _supposed_ to be keeping track of each clan-member’s position. She shouldn’t be finding out about Lorette’s plans now; she should have known the instant the spiral started looking for other options. And she didn’t like that Lorette had come to Nesita, not Aridatha herself, with the news.

“Are you sure?” Nesita said, somewhat taken aback.

Lorette nodded. “I didn’t want to tell you until I had somewhere else to go, but Frip’s been helping me make arrangements.”

 _Why didn’t Frip tell me?_ But Aridatha struck that question from her mind almost as soon as it formed. Of course Frip hadn’t told her. Frip didn’t tell anyone anything, unless it was in maddeningly enigmatic terms. The nocturne was a walking mystery.

“May I ask why you’ve chosen this?” Aridatha said, and Lorette looked at her for the first time, a startled, worried glance.

“I … don’t feel that I fit here anymore,” Lorette said. “It’s not _because_ of you,” she added quickly. “Or the move, although … I don’t really want to move … At least, I don’t want to move to the Starwood Strand, I just can’t see why you’re going to forsake an extensive and well-planned lair like this for a bunch of trees that happen to sparkle …”

“Lorette,” Nesita said, gently, and the spiral stopped and took a deep breath.

“I don’t want to make that move, and frankly, I’m tired of dealing with Wanderer and Moros,” Lorette continued. “I don’t like … upheaval. I just want to sit in a nice library in peace, and … I think that’s best pursued elsewhere. That’s not a bad thing. This clan is going somewhere. I’m just not sure I want to go with it.”

For a long moment, there was silence, except for the slight tinkling of the beads that Lorette had disturbed. Then Nesita said, “You have somewhere to go?”

“Yes.” Lorette sounded relieved; perhaps she’d expected an argument. “I’d like to take a couple of my favorite scrolls and carvings. Bartos can have the rest.”

“Of course,” Nesita said.

“Frip has all the details, if you need them,” Lorette said, looking nervously between Aridatha and Nesita.

“Yes, I think I might have a nice talk with Frip,” Aridatha said, unfortunately failing to keep the sarcasm out of her tone.

“I’m leaving soon, so – goodbye, Nesita! I’ll write, I promise.” With that, Lorette quickly backed out of the cavern, leaving her clan’s current and former – or, perhaps, would-be and de facto – leaders in council.

Another silence. Nesita looked at Aridatha, mouth tight, and it occurred to the pearlcatcher that her predecessor probably blamed her for driving away one of her friends. Aridatha wasn’t sure she’d been wrong. She’d never spoken to Lorette before …

The moment passed, Nesita choosing not to comment. Aridatha said, “Well? Will you go?”

“I’ll have to think about it,” Nesita said. “I have work here that I’m not sure anyone else can do – the hatchery, and if someone gets hurt … But I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.” Aridatha figured that was about the best she was going to get out of the tundra.


	3. Chapter 3

“Oh,” Aridatha said, her voice rather small, upon seeing Clan Lukra’s hoard in person for the first time.

“Yes,” Frip said briskly. “ ‘Oh.’ Good luck, Ari.”

“Don’t call me – ” Aridatha began, but the nocturne was already gone. Aridatha scowled after her. “I thought you were going to help me!”

No response, of course. She should have known. Frip, be helpful? Hardly.

Sighing, Aridatha turned to the hoard before her. She was supposed to be finding any items that could be useful in the construction of the new lair. Timber, so that they need not risk logging – and angering dryads and other neighbors – in their future home. Tools. Metal and stone, canvas and cloth … It began to hit Aridatha now what an immense task she had taken on, to construct a lair for some forty-odd dragons. It seemed like it had been so easy when Nesita did it … but, of course, when she’d started building, there’d been only two of them. The others had come later, with gradual expansion …

Aridatha shook her head and returned her attention to her surroundings. There was enough trouble just here without borrowing more; she could worry about what they were going to build when they had something to build it with.

And that itself was far from certain, Aridatha thought glumly, looking at the hoard around her.

At one time, probably before the clan numbered more than ten dragons, there had been efforts at organization. Most of the food was piled in one corner, near the entrance, garlanded with spells of preservation and purity. Other than that, most of the things in here looked like they’d been tossed in by dragons in a hurry and left there. There was a large, live bird perched on top of a stack of miscellaneous rubbish to Aridatha’s right. She frowned at it, wondering why it was there, and it squawked, grabbed a bit of vine in its beak, and fluttered off into the shadows.

“All right, then.” Aridatha winced to realize that she was talking to herself now. But, well, there was no one else here for her to talk to. She hadn’t realized when she’d sent Nessa and Lioska away that she’d miss them so much …

“All right,” Aridatha said again. “Timber.”

She padded among the piles of clutter, idly rolling her pearl by her side. They would need quite a lot of wood to construct shelters big enough to accommodate guardians, let alone imperials, but the clan had been gathering supplies in a haphazard and disordered manner for a long time. They just hadn’t expected to need it for a project on this scale.

Pausing, Aridatha spotted a nearby stack of stuff built on top of several sturdy logs. The things on top included furs, rocks, rumpled cloth, a snarling face that startled Aridatha until she realized that it was hanging off of a wolf’s pelt, a few books, at least one bottle of glowing ooze … Aridatha laid a claw lightly on one of the logs and tugged at it. If she could get them out … the pile would fall, but it wasn’t like it was well-catalogued to begin with.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said a fluting voice behind her.

Aridatha jumped, knocking the log, which, of course, upset the balance of the mountain of miscellanea. She had half a second to say, “Oh, Shade” before it collapsed on top of her.

Buried in rubble, with some kind of horn sticking into her side and something leaking onto her left wing, Aridatha had a moment to think that she really ought to have delegated this task to someone else. Then, that thought still lingering, she writhed and pulled herself out of the pile.

“I told you so,” said the voice. Aridatha turned to see that it belonged to a young skydancer, prim and silvery, perched on top of another heaping mound of junk. She suppressed several questions that leapt to her tongue, including _Who the Shade are you?_ Aridatha didn’t know this skydancer, and she was supposed to know everyone in the clan.

“I see.” Aridatha finished climbing out of the drift and found herself standing on a large, wadded, and rather foul-smelling animal pelt. “I should have worked that one out for myself, shouldn’t I?”

“It would have saved you some trouble,” the skydancer agreed, tilting her head. She wore a tiny pair of spectacles, over a gem-encrusted face.

“Are you one of Arven’s clutch?” Aridatha asked, hazarding a guess as to her companion’s parentage. She was too shiny to be Cypress’.

“Halamshiral’s and Arven’s, yes.” The narrow head bobbed in acknowledgment. “I have chosen the name Isildur. And you’re Aridatha.”

“Yes.” Aridatha glanced around, wondering why Isildur was here, and that’s when she noticed something. “My pearl. It’s … where is it?”

The pitch of her voice was rising, quite against her will, as something like nausea seized her stomach. _It’s not even my pearl!_ But that didn’t seem to matter. Maybe when she’d chosen a new species, she should have picked one without such an obvious vulnerability.

Lounging on a clouddancer pelt, Isildur waved her claws, and the mess under Aridatha began to shift. Aridatha jumped and snarled; she didn’t need this, too. And then the pearl, milky white and lustrous, rolled out of what looked like some bird’s nest and clinked against a rusty chain. Aridatha picked it up and looked at Isildur.

“How did you do that?”

“You are familiar with the concept of magic, I hope?” the skydancer said sarcastically. Aridatha frowned, and Isildur sighed. “I’ve been hanging out here rather a lot lately. It’s quiet and nothing in here tries to kill you. Well, fewer things. And, as I’ve had nothing better to do, I’ve been … experimenting.”

“You’re experimenting with magic in the middle of the hoard? Which includes our food supplies?”

“Don’t take it like _that_.” Isildur’s head drew back, and Aridatha had a moment to think that no one could sneer quite like a skydancer. “It’s perfectly safe. Mostly I’ve just been trying to make some sense of the mess, preferably without having to dig through all of it. And if I hadn’t, you’d still be scrambling for your pearl, wouldn’t you?”

“True.” Aridatha picked her way to solid footing, then looked up at the other dragon. “Are you telling me that you actually know where stuff is in here? Useful stuff?”

“Mmm …” Isildur tilted her head uncertainly. “ ‘Know’ is a strong word. But I’d wager I have a better handle on it than anyone else here.”

“I need building materials.”

“For the new lair?” Just because Aridatha didn’t know anything about Isildur didn’t mean the reverse was true. Clearly, she’d heard of Aridatha’s plans. “I would so love to help, but I really ought to be on my way.”

Most of Clan Lukra’s hatchlings did not remain in their birth clan: they left, to join other clans or the Arcanist’s cause. Aridatha frowned; there was something unpleasant in Isildur’s tone. “Do you _want_ to stay?”

“Maybe I just don’t want to go.”

Aridatha wasn’t sure she saw the difference. She shrugged; the tips of her wings hit something slimy, and she tried not to shudder. “You don’t have to go if you have something better to do.”

Isildur considered this for a moment, then brought out one of the oldest arguments of all: “Says who?”

“Me.” Aridatha held the Isildur’s gaze, steadily, until the skydancer looked away. “You want to organize this? You actually know what the Shade you’re doing? Great. You’re in charge.”

“In charge of what?” Isildur laughed.

She had a point, but Aridatha forged on. “The hoard, from here on out. You can keep track of what comes in and goes out, and you can tell us where the materials we need are. And when we are settled in the Starwood Strand, we’ll build a new structure for our hoard – you can help decide how. And maybe you can keep it from getting into this state again.”

“That sounds like an awful lot of work.”

“It would be,” Aridatha admitted. “So?”

Isildur picked her way carefully down the front of the pile of junk she’d been sitting on, to stand in front of Aridatha. She glanced at the clutter around them. “Arcanist, I suppose I’d better do it, or you’ll just come barreling through and leave it an even bigger mess.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Nesita?” Geras said, walking into the hatchery. “Do you have a moment?”

“Yes?” Nesita was curled beside one of the empty nests. It looked like she’d been napping; she stretched and yawned as Geras approached. “What do you need?”

“Aridatha has asked me to go to the Starwood Strand. To help build the new lair.”

“Ah.” Nesita scratched a talon absently across the stone in front of her. “She’s requested the same of me, in fact.”

“Do you intend to go?”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know.” Geras sat down heavily next to Nesita, dwarfing the tundra. “I … would like to be helpful. But I’m still not sure about this whole thing.”

“I think it’ll be interesting,” Kelsus chimed in from his usual perch on Geras’ head. Nesita blinked and peered up at him. She probably hadn’t even realized he was there, tundra eyesight being what it was. Though she could have expected him. He spent a lot of time curled up between Geras’ horns.

“A great many things are interesting,” Geras said, rather disapprovingly.

“What harm could it do to go see?” Kelsus chirped.

Geras just shook her head. “Gavin has already agreed to go, and Talva seems amenable too. Actually, Talva’s already left, but I’m not sure if she’s going to Starwood or just on one of her rambles.”

There was a long moment of silence, during which Nesita stared thoughtfully into the empty nest.

“Aridatha has a point,” the tundra said at last. “Her leadership is certainly … more dynamic.”

“I thought Nessa was in charge,” Kelsus said, leaning against one of Geras’ horns.

Nesita shook her head. “That was the initial impression, yes, but it’s clear to me now that it is Aridatha’s word the others wait for. Nessa has shown some organizational skill, as I understand it.”

“She’s their architect,” Geras said. “Aridatha showed me some of her plans.”

“She showed me, too.” One of Nesita’s ears twitched. “They were quite impressive. And Aridatha has recruited a young skydancer to organize the hoard, which certainly needed doing.”

“They’re starting to pile up materials for us to take with us. If we go, of course,” Geras added.

“I need to ask Wanderer or Bartos to talk to Zura,” Nesita said. “I’m not sure she really understands what’s happening.”

“So …” Geras looked down at Nesita. “Do you think I should go? Are you going to?”

Nesita sighed. “Look how many of us are already there. I heard Zarya teasing Bartos over how her research will spread to the corners of Sornieth while he touches nothing outside of his little cave. This … was not the course of action I would have preferred, but I do believe it is the will of the clan as a whole.”

Nesita turned to regard what Geras – and likely the rest of the clan – had always considered her domain: the hatchery. “The nests are empty, and construction is rife with accidents. I suspect that I would serve this clan best by traveling to the Starwood Strand.”

“I know you love this place,” Geras said, raising her head to look at the ceiling. The pale pink rock bounced light back and forth. It reminded Geras’ of Halamshiral’s crystalline scales; that fae could blend in alarmingly well with her backdrop.

Nesita shrugged. “My love for my clan outweighs anything I feel for a cold collection of tunnels.”

Geras didn’t know what to say for that. Nesita sounded so matter-of-fact, as if her devotion to her clan-mates should have been obvious. Maybe it should have been. Maybe that was Geras’ problem.

“So, we’re going?” Kelsus said. He wasn’t good with tone and body language, so he probably had no idea how melancholy and regretful Nesita sounded.

“Yes,” Nesita said. She lifted her head. “If we’re going to do this, we ought to do it well.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Stop. Stop it. Stop stop stop.”

“Kelsus?” Geras said, looking up. He didn’t sound upset, but then he was a fae. It couldn’t be Nessa – she coaxed a little more inflection out of that extended larynx.

“Not me,” Kelsus said.

“No, it’s me.” Something zipped by Geras’ head and landed in a nearby tree. Another fae, this one bright and sparkling silver. Geras got the feeling that if he could emphasize anything, his tone would be highly offended.

This was confirmed when Kelsus whispered, “Oh, he’s mad,” into her ear. Always nice to have a translator.

“Foul desecrators. How dare you tread on holy ground? You blaspheme with every breath from your unworthy lungs.”

The silver fae probably meant to be accusatory, even furious, but his delivery was so flat that all Geras could do was laugh. That just made things worse; fins flaring in a gesture even Geras could recognize as angry, the fae hissed, and magic coalesced around his talons, little pink rips in the fabric of reality.

“Wait!” Geras said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. If I, uh, stepped on anything, I’m sorry.”

“ ‘Stepped on anything’? You sully the soil of the Arcanist. Leave these woods at once, or I shall make you leave.”

“Maybe we should just go,” Kelsus said.

“We can’t. We live here now.” Geras gestured with her tail to indicate the little valley behind her, where the others were industriously building the beginnings of their new lair.

“This is my place,” said the silver fae. His mirror-like scales bounced around the light that gathered around his talons.

“You know how I said he was mad before?” Kelsus whispered. Geras could feel him slipping further back on her neck, clinging to her horns, putting her between him and the angry little dragon. “He’s really mad. And really magical.”

“Wait,” Geras said. “Please. I don’t want to fight. Let’s talk about this. We’re an Arcane clan ourselves; we certainly mean no offense to the Arcanist.”

“You are not Arcane,” the fae hissed.

Geras tried to remember how Aridatha put it. “We may not have been born in the Arcanist’s lands, but we have chosen to devote ourselves to his service.”

Except that wasn’t really true, in her case. She had hatched in the Starfall Isles and had never bothered to pick a patron god. But Nesita and Delemont had found her egg elsewhere, so her eyes burned with flame rather than stars.

The strange fae paused, magic still swirling around his claws. His crest flicked back and forth. “You serve the Arcanist? Liar. You disturb my rituals, defile my grounds – you are no servants of my god.”

“But we are.” Geras hit on an idea. “Why don’t you come back to our camp and talk to Nesita? She hatched Arcane. I’m sure we can work something out – and I’m sorry for any damage I may have inadvertently done.”

The fae folded his wings and regarded Geras in silence for a moment. “That may be acceptable.”

“Great!” Geras wondered why she was bothering to force cheer into her tone in front of two faes. “I’m Geras, and this is Kelsus. What’s your name?”

Another pause. _Gods, don’t tell me he has some sacred name that only the rited can share or something_. “Barholme.”


	6. Chapter 6

Geras was impressed. It had taken only a quick word to Lioska for the wildclaw to make the best of the situation. Of course, there was only so much the wildclaw could do to make them ready to receive a guest, but she certainly tried. She managed to arrange a little sitting area in the shade of a tree, away from the current noise of construction. Barholme perched on a forking branch that Lioska had planted in the ground, and Nesita lay on an elk pelt, the silvery fur rather complementing her own blue and purple coloration. Geras stood by, rather screening the rest of the lair from view, which she thought was why Lioska had pointed her to this particular spot. And Kelsus leaned on her horns.

“I’m sorry that we’ve disturbed you,” Nesita said. “We didn’t realize that anyone lived here. It … would be difficult to relocate, but I imagine it could be done, if you object considerably to our presence.”

“We’ve already built so much,” Kelsus said. Geras wondered if there’d been hope in Nesita’s voice. The tundra hadn’t wanted to move here; if Barholme kicked them out, she could argue to return to the lair she loved. And yet Geras doubted that Aridatha and Lioska would consider a single, very small prior resident adequate cause to uproot their entire venture.

“You say you are an Arcane clan?” Barholme asked. “You have the eyes for it, at least.”

Nesita nodded. “We are Clan Lukra, lately of the Crystalspine Reaches.”

“I’ve never heard of you.” Barholme’s frills were folded against his head, twitching slightly.

“I imagine not,” Nesita agreed genially, not offended by the statement. “We have always been a quiet clan, never ambitious or fame-seeking. We lived quietly in our caves, keeping to ourselves and trading or traveling little.”

She didn’t sound ashamed at the unimpressive resumé. Geras imagined that Nesita rather missed that quiet life.

“But you serve the Arcanist?” Barholme asked. Geras got the impression that he was not very interested in subjects other than his god and his worship.

“Yes.” Nesita folded her claws thoughtfully before her. “We have sent many dragons to serve at our lord’s side.”

Geras hadn’t thought about her long-ago nests for ages, but she wondered suddenly how her daughters were doing in the Arcanist’s care. She had found that she didn’t really like breeding and stopped. Bartos had done the same thing after their nest. Brenna had been gone for so long that it felt strange to think they had a child together. It was as if she’d never existed at all.

Barholme’s flat voice called her back to the present. “But how does your clan worship him in the here and now?”

“I’m not sure I understand your meaning,” Nesita said.

Barholme waved a wing at the valley behind him. “I see no shrines, no tributes to his glory. I sense no rituals, just a gaping emptiness.”

“Rituals?” Nesita said, puzzled. “I don’t know of any rituals.”

Barholme’s head bobbed. “You can’t see the patterns in the stars, telling you what to do? And you call yourself Arcanites.”

“We’ve never called ourselves that, actually,” Kelsus chimed in. Barholme’s fins flared.

“If we’re so remiss, why don’t you show us what we should do?” Geras inserted quickly. She was getting the hang of some fae body language, after hanging out with Kelsus so much, and she was pretty sure that gesture wasn’t friendly. “If we’ve neglected the Arcanist’s due, it’s from ignorance, not malice.”

Nesita nodded slowly. “We never wished to disturb you and have no wish to drive you from your home. You could join us and show us the way. We have resources – I’m sure we could make a more fitting tribute to the Arcanist together than either of us would separately.”

Barholme’s head twisted. “I need crystals. To replace the ones this lumbering giant stepped on.”

He flicked a claw towards Geras on that last part. _I did? Oops_.

“We have them,” Nesita said calmly. “Most remain at our previous lair site, but I’ll send word to Aridatha and we’ll include them in the next shipment of supplies.”

Geras wondered who’d be carrying that one. She had come to the Starwood Strand with great amounts of timber and stone hanging from her shoulders.

“I wish to plant sacridite and celestine together, perhaps with some kunzite and chalcedony.”

“Chalcedony is toxic to dragons who aren’t Arcane-born,” Nesita said. “Do you intend to try to neutralize it with rhodochrosite? Last I heard, that technique was still experimental.”

Barholme’s fins twitched. Kelsus leaned into Geras’ ear and whispered, “He’s impressed.”

“I intended to use morganite, actually.” Barholme then launched into a long explanation, most of which went completely over Geras’ head – quite a feat, at her size. Nesita seemed to follow it, though, and nodded thoughtfully, adding the occasional comment or question. Geras could understand just enough to tell that they’d wandered into a technical discussion of magic and, therefore, out of the scope of her interests. She turned and saw Acrux beckoning to her, presumably for help with the wooden platform he was currently securing to one of the large trees.

“I’ll take my leave of you,” Geras said. Barholme didn’t seem to hear her, but Nesita looked up at her, smiled, and mouthed “Thank you.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Wanderer?”

Wanderer’s head jerked up, and he quickly twisted in his nest of pillows and preened, making sure that the bows on his neck and tail weren’t askew. Then he slid out of the nest and went to pull aside the curtain that hung in his doorway.

“Bartos! It’s been ages since we spoke.” Wanderer rubbed his head against the tundra’s chest, an attention that Bartos tolerated woodenly. “What’s up? I heard your mother left. Does that mean we’ll be moving after all? There’s a lot of stuff to take, isn’t there?”

“My mother asked me to speak to Zura,” Bartos said, “and ensure that she fully understands the situation.”

“Oh,” Wanderer said. Of course Bartos had come to ask him to play translator for Zura. Why couldn’t she just learn Common, as he had? It wasn’t that difficult. That new guy, Sunfall, seemed to get along just fine, and nobody had even bothered to teach him.

He ought to be grateful, though – Zura’s language barrier gave Bartos a reason to seek out Wanderer. The coatl pushed away the thought that Bartos would have happily ignored him otherwise. It was fine that Bartos didn’t like him, because Bartos didn’t like _anyone_.

“Do you know where Zura is?” Wanderer asked.

“I believe we’ll be able to find her in the hoard.”

“How do you find anything in there?”

Bartos shrugged. The inner workings of the hoard clearly did not interest him, as long as it continued to regularly bring forth food and money and books.

Arriving at the center of the lair, Wanderer and Bartos found the place already busy. Someone had cleared a large space near the entrance to the storage chambers, and there stood Iburel. Lailyn, Aridatha, and a skydancer Wanderer didn’t know bustled around the ridgeback, securing bundles of supplies pretty much anywhere they’d fit. There was an entire grove’s worth of timber tied to his belly, and a bag of stones hanging around his neck. Many of the packages glowed with unfamiliar spells; as Wanderer watched, the silvery skydancer laid down another one and then fluttered to a stack of supplies.

“You’re not to go anywhere near those loads,” Lailyn told Wanderer, clicking her talons together to produce a spark. “The last thing we need is knots mysteriously unraveled and items somehow vanished.”

“You’re putting them on a _ridgeback_ ,” Wanderer retorted. “Hope you don’t expect to get more than half your weight back.”

“Wanderer,” Bartos said, quelling him. Iburel himself didn’t seem to have noticed the aspersion; in fact, he wasn’t paying attention to the work going on around him at all, but read from a large scroll, handling it gingerly to avoid piercing the vellum with his long claws. “We’re looking for Zura. It is about the time she usually returns from her foraging, is it not?”

“She got upset when she saw the kid” – this apparently referring to the other skydancer – “moving stuff around.” Lailyn tilted her head. “Wonder of wonders, is someone actually going to tell her what’s going on?”

“That is the plan,” Bartos acknowledged. “Where is she?”

“Try back there.” Lailyn pointed, and Bartos set off without another word. Wanderer could feel Lailyn’s gaze on him as he followed the tundra. As if he’d stoop to petty tricks when they had so much work to do. Although … if he just tweaked a few of the ropes …

They rounded a pile of miscellaneous hides, tusks, and antlers and found Zura arranging crystals in careful patterns. She looked up at their footsteps, feathers ruffled and fully fluffed. Lailyn was right; Zura was upset. But her pinions relaxed a little at the sight of her visitors. She skittered over to Wanderer, piping in coatl-speak. “Wanderer – finally! Where are they taking all our hoard? Where is Nesita? Where is everyone?”

“We’re moving,” Wanderer replied.

Zura’s feathers flared and eyes widened with surprise. “Moving? Why? Where? I don’t – when did this start? I knew something was going on after the clan meeting, but then … dragons just started to leave …”

“A new home in Starwood Strand,” Bartos said, in his own slightly broken and horribly accented Coatl. Wanderer winced at the way he mangled the language, and gods knew he was _trying_. In fact, Wanderer had never told the tundra just how bad he sounded, knowing that it’d offend his pride. Bartos liked to be the best at everything he did.

“But why?” Zura repeated.

Wanderer looked at Bartos and said, in Common, “You probably have the whole inspiring speech memorized, don’t you?”

Bartos shook his head. “I try to let the nonsense run out my ears.”

Wanderer bobbed his head in agreement. Turning to Zura, he said, “Does it really matter why? It’s happening. Nesita’s already at the new lair. I haven’t been yet, but I hear construction is coming along nicely. That pearlcatcher, Aridatha, is in charge. Heh, _charge_ , because she’s Lightning.”

Zura didn’t seem to appreciate the pun. She looked from Wanderer to Bartos, clearly worried. “So … we’re leaving home.”

“This isn’t going to be home anymore,” Wanderer said impatiently.

“My mother does not like it neither,” Bartos said in Coatl. “But the … choice is made.”

“Was anyone going to tell me?” Zura said, in a very small voice.

“We’re telling you _now_ ,” Wanderer snapped. Gods, she was annoying. Worse than Moros. His thoughts touched briefly on the ridgeback, and how she’d somehow found somewhere out of the way to sulk now that there was work to be done … Clever Moros.

Zura frowned. She was smaller than Wanderer – though still far larger than Bartos – and the way she curled in on herself made her look even smaller.

“I did not think …” Bartos stopped and shook his head, clearly struggling to assemble the sentence he wanted. “Could you tell her, Wanderer, that it should not change overmuch for her? I doubt Aridatha will have a problem with her useful habit of collecting food and trinkets for the clan. It will just be a slightly different setting, an altered backdrop.”

If anyone else had asked him to convey a message, Wanderer would have twisted it into trouble, just for fun. But he told Zura, “You can still do your gathering and … whatever it is you do all day. You’ll just come back to a lair in the Strand instead of the Reaches.”

“What about Nesita?”

“My mother travels now to the new place,” Bartos said. He always had trouble with verb tenses. “Will you join her?”

“Iburel’s taking a load of materials and stuff,” Wanderer supplied. “Why don’t you go with him? He knows the way … I think. You can get there early and have plenty of time to settle in.”

“But if you’re here … What if I need to speak to someone?”

“Sunfall is there,” Wanderer said, rather liking the idea of someone other than him serving as Zura’s translator. “And I think that wildclaw, Lioska, might speak it a bit. And you got along somehow before I hatched, right?”

Zura nodded. She looked again between Wanderer and Bartos, and nodded again. “All right. I will go, if you think it wise, Wanderer.”

“I do.” _Well that’s her out of my feathers for a bit_. Although Wanderer realized that he had not really thought about the fact that eventually he was supposed to end up at the new lair as well. He was comfortable here … but Bartos would be going, of course, and so would all the food. Maybe Bartos needed help packing his library – although that sounded almost like work.

“All right. Good. I will gather some supplies of my own.” Zura sounded happier now that the decision was made and a path lay before her. She turned and began rummaging around in a pile behind her – one of the stacks of stuff that Aridatha and her friends hadn’t gotten around to organizing. From the smell, something had probably died in there.

“She’s good,” Wanderer told Bartos. “She’ll go with Iburel.”

“Good.” Bartos padded away, back through the front of the hoard. Wanderer followed, ignoring the fact that his lashing tail knocked over several small items. When Bartos stopped, Wanderer nearly ran into him and ended up curling around him instead.

“Zura will be accompanying you,” Bartos told Iburel, ignoring Wanderer. “Please make sure that she doesn’t get lost or left behind.”

“It’ll be a long flight,” the ridgeback said. “I have a tonic … ”

“No,” Bartos said. Iburel had a bit of a reputation. “No tonics.”

Iburel began to shrug, then remembered the load on his back and stilled himself. “It’s her loss.”


	8. Chapter 8

“All right,” Aridatha said, examining the scroll in her claws. “I think we’ve got most of the materials settled. There’s still mountains of miscellaneous stuff to go … Isildur’s going to see if we can’t shift some of it by magic. Teleportation would be a lot easier than hauling all this over the mountains.”

Geras nodded. As one of the main haulers, she knew that better than Aridatha did. Her shoulders were sore.

The pearlcatcher sighed, looking down the scroll. “I always feel like I’m forgetting something … Oh, Geras. I was going to ask you to check the familiar cave and see about moving them. Isildur won’t go in there – she got bit last time she poked her nose in, or something.”

“Oh?” Geras said. “You want me to do that?”

“You and Luna,” Aridatha clarified. “She should be getting in any time now. She worked with beastclans before joining us, yes?”

“As far as I know.” Geras had never spoken much to Luna, though the other guardian was friendly and good-natured enough, as far as she knew. Their paths just hadn’t tended to cross. But Luna had to have got that harpy of hers from somewhere.

“You can start without her if you want.” Aridatha turned away. Something in her tone suggested that she considered the matter Geras’ problem now, not hers. “Just … work something out to transport them. With a minimum of fuss, please.”

“I’ll try,” Geras said, and then Aridatha was gone, picking her way through the clan’s detritus back to the stack of clutter Isildur was sorting. Geras had to hand it to those two: they’d done a better job arranging things than she would have believed possible. But even those keen minds couldn’t keep everything in order. Still, the odd battle-stone and feathered fan littered the floor. Eventually it’d all get swept up and stuffed into a bundle with everything else.

Geras had not entered the clan’s familiar cave in a long time. Unlike most of the other dragons in the clan, she’d found a familiar she wanted to keep. She couldn’t have said why she decided to stick with Fee – and Rakgi did ask, every so often – but something about the Serthis … She just seemed to belong with Geras.

Fee was currently in Geras’ room – what would soon be Geras’ old room – familiars being fairly low on list of things to haul across the mountains. Except for Luna’s harpy; of course her charge accompanied her.

That chain of thought led, naturally, to the question of Geras’ own Search and when, exactly, that was supposed to happen. Shaking her head as if to clear it, Geras put those questions aside and stepped through the curtain draped over the familiar cave’s entrance.

“Holy Flamecaller.”

Clearly, Isildur’s organizing hadn’t reached this far. The large chamber was a mess. The smell hit Geras first, musky and fetid. The floor … the state of the floor did not bear thinking about. As Geras stepped through, the creatures scattered to all corners with a cacophony of growls and squawks. There was half-eaten food everywhere; it must have come from the main hoard, except … as Geras watched, two floracats and a large scorpion fell upon a dodo and tore it apart, snarling and clicking at each other.

When Geras failed to produce either food or threat, the animals seemed to decide to ignore her, and got back to chasing each other, clawing at each other, and hiding from each other. Lifting her head, Geras noticed that at the back of the cavern a large area had been barricaded off with a slightly haphazard pile of wood and stone. Skulls and feathers hung from the barricade, the former staring rather accusatorially at Geras. That was where she would find the more intelligent beasts, she imagined.

She stepped backwards out of the familiar cavern, back into the main hoard, and took a long, deep breath.

“How did we let this get so …” she said, to no one in particular. “It’s … it’s awful.”

She felt suddenly uncomfortably aware that she’d been sitting in luxury in her own chamber nearby while the creatures that her clan was responsible descended into chaos.

“It’s pretty bad.”

Geras spun to see Frip lounging on a nearby stack of flowers and rocks. Her perch put the nocturne nearly at eye level with Geras, so Geras could see the smile on her face. She couldn’t, however, find any meaning in Frip’s blank white eyes.

“Someone sure ought to do something,” Frip said lazily.

“May I assume you want me to be that someone?” Geras asked.

“Do you see anyone else here to do it?” Frip shrugged.

“There’s you.”

Frip slid off the pile of junk, rolling over on her way down to land on her feet. “Oh no. We’ve had it quietly behind the scenes for far too long. And this _is_ our new beginning, after all. Think of it as a chance to start over.”

Geras frowned as Frip slunk away into the hoard. “Wait, but … Where do I start?”

“Ask Luna,” Frip said, tail lashing, and just as she disappeared from view behind a pile of books, that very dragon walked in around the other side.


	9. Chapter 9

“Who is responsible for this?”

“I … I don’t know. No one.” Geras looked helplessly between Luna and their surroundings, the chaotic familiar cave. A strangler wrapped itself experimentally around her leg, until Fee hissed at it and it uncoiled and vanished into the rocks. “I don’t think anyone’s been in here in a while. I guess … I guess we all just assumed it was someone else’s job?”

Luna gave a disapproving snort. “Perhaps we should be glad that Aridatha arrived when she did.”

Geras bit back the response that first leapt to her tongue: that Luna hadn’t done anything about the situation either. Of course, Luna had not been aware of the problem, but neither had Geras, not till now.

 _You didn’t exactly ask_.

“Where do we start?” Geras asked. She was older than Luna, actually, and certainly more senior, but she didn’t mind deferring to the other guardian. It wasn’t as if she had any idea what to do.

“I suppose we should look to what order _does_ exist in here,” Luna said, still plainly displeased. She stepped towards the back of the cavern, towards the makeshift barrier. “At least some of the inhabitants seem to have found better things to do than devouring each other.”

Geras followed Luna, mood subdued, watching her feet carefully to make sure she didn’t step on anything. Most of the creatures were quick to get out of her way, but with two guardians walking around, there wasn’t a lot of free space – the chamber was big, but it wasn’t that big.

Luna rapped gently on the mostly wooden barricade. She could have easily torn it down, but Geras imagined that would be rude, like invading another clan’s lair. Even though this was, in fact, part of their lair.

“There’s a door,” Fee said, approaching the wall. She called out something in her own language, a silky song of sibilants. Luna, too, spoke in a language Geras didn’t know, and the harpy on her back perked up, lifting his head.

Noise near the top of the barricade made Geras look up. Several harpies perched there, shrieking at Luna. The sounds were incomprehensible to Geras, but their creators didn’t seem friendly: Luna put her head back as one harpy hurled a rock, far too small to harm her. Now the harpy on Luna’s back had joined in, squawking back at his fellows, which seems only to drive them to further rage. Luna made no progress trying to talk to them, even when she could get a word in edgewise.

“Geras.” Fee’s tail wrapped around the guardian’s wrist to get her attention over the harpies’ clamor. There was, in fact, a door in the wall, and standing in it was another Serthis, its coloring rather similar to Fee’s.

Geras lowered her head to almost the Serthis’ level. “Can you tell him that we’re moving, and everything in this cave needs to go?”

Fee spoke briefly to the other Serthis, who made an abrupt, almost angry gesture. Fee looked up to Geras. “They want better living conditions, or to be set free.”

The other Serthis hissed and gestured again.

“Or they’ll make your move as difficult as they can,” Fee translated.

“Oh.” Geras looked around the cave. She hadn’t realized that the beastclans might consider themselves prisoners … Most of them had been taken in battle, though – often in battle with Geras herself, since Delemont still requested her company on his hunts. Perhaps no one would have stopped them from fleeing, but clearly, the remaining creatures were those who had chosen not to risk it. “Yes, that’s perfectly reasonable. In fact” – sudden inspiration hit – “if they will come quickly, they may design their new home themselves, and build it according to their needs.”

As they had done here, in this cavern, Geras thought. And apparently that occurred to the Serthis, too: Fee translated, “He says they’ve already built a home here, without any help from you. They see no point in traveling across the Isles just so they can be ignored somewhere else. It won’t exactly change their lot much, if you leave.”

“Those who wish to leave should be ransomed back to their clans,” Luna said, having switched her attention from the harpies to the Serthis. The birds had mostly quieted, but still glared down at Luna, feathers ruffled. Her own harpy was hiding in her sweater. “The rest, I can take responsibility for. This clan has been negligent in building relationships with the beasts. I did not realize this was the case, but I am ready to correct it now.”

Almost before Fee could translate them, Luna’s words sent the harpies into a fresh frenzy, and Geras was alarmed to see some of them hefting weapons. Luna tilted her head up, listening to them.

“Oh,” she said, after a moment. “They refuse to be overseen by the vassal of a traitor and a kin-slayer.”

“A what?” Geras said, but Luna was already responding to the harpies in their own language. Whatever she said, it earned only jeers and a few more thrown rocks.

Luna shook her head. “I am hardly a vassal, but – they will not have me. Someone else will have to make them promises.”

She looked, rather expectantly, at Geras. “Oh.”

“I doubt there is anyone in this clan more qualified,” Luna said.

Geras thought about it. Bartos probably spoke more beastclan languages than she did – not a great feat, as she spoke none – but he would likely refuse to give up his books and quiet study for the chaos of dealing with unpredictable creatures. Nesita had her own duties, tending to the hatchery and to the clan’s medical needs. Frip probably spoke the beast tongues as well, but she had already declined to help Geras with the familiars. Isildur … would have quite enough to worry about just managing the non-living part of the hoard. Rakgi had done poorly taking care of his own Serthis a while back, Zura couldn’t communicate with the rest of the clan, and Kelsus was rather small and rather silly for the job.

Luna was right. There was no one more suited for the task than Geras, excepting Luna herself, even if her only qualification was that she’d looked after Fee – and Fee did not exactly require a lot of looking after.

“I’ll vouch for you,” Fee said, quietly and unexpectedly. “I’ll tell him you’re fair, and trustworthy. And I can translate for you.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Geras nodded, looking from Fee and the Serthis to Luna and the harpies. Fine. She supposed it was a better use of her time than sitting around.


	10. Chapter 10

“Oh, hey,” Cypress said, pausing on his way out of the hoard. “How are you going to move Weythran’s thing?”

“Weythran’s what?” Aridatha said, rather busy sorting

“His thing.” Cypress gave Aridatha a rather blank look for someone who claimed to have a way with words. Then he gestured vaguely. “His big … ropey … wooden thing. With the canvas, and …”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Aridatha flipped through some of her notes. “Weythran … that nocturne who doesn’t get out much?”

“His flying machine!” Cypress said, finding the right term at last. “He’s building a flying machine over in his cave. It’s pretty big, too. I don’t know if he ever got it to work.”

“Can you take me there?”

“Why? Don’t you know where it is? I thought you knew all the pertinent details.” Cypress’ head tilted as he watched Aridatha.

“I’m sure I could find it, but since you know the way, why don’t you show me?” Aridatha could not remember where, exactly, in the spiraling tunnels of the clan’s old lair Weythran lived.

“I’ve only been there a couple times,” Cypress said, but he led Aridatha without further complaint.

Soon they reached an out-of-the-way cave closed off from view by a sheet of canvas. Cypress rapped on the wall next to it and then pushed the canvas aside and went in, calling, “Hey, Weythran? It’s me, Cypress.”

Aridatha followed the skydancer into the strangest workshop she’d ever seen, and she’d been in Acrux’s. Ropes and pulleys criss-crossed the cave, holding together irregular pieces of wood and billowing scraps of canvas.

“I think it might be modern art,” Cypress said, under his breath.

“What will they think of next?” Aridatha whispered back, sarcastically. Cypress gave her a quick, bright smile. It felt unexpectedly good to share his laughter and know that she was not alone in her bafflement.

“Can I help you?” A nocturne’s head poked out from some kind of rope net hanging from the ceiling.

“Hey, Weythran,” Cypress said. “We’re here to help you move.”

“Move?” The nocturne pushed his goggles up on his forehead, shoving them over the helmet he wore.

“You are aware that the entire clan is moving to the Starwood Strand, are you not?” Aridatha said. “Construction of the new lair has been underway for some time now.”

“Oh.” Weythran fiddled with a tiny wheel in his claws. “I knew something was supposed to happen, but I never really got … the particulars.”

“This entire assembly needs to be packed up and moved immediately,” Aridatha said, unable to keep the sharpness out of her voice.

There was a long silence, during which Weythran stared intently at the floor. Then, tossing away his little wheel, he said quietly, “May as well leave it behind. It doesn’t work.”

“Hey, don’t give up,” Cypress said. His tail lashed: concern, Aridatha thought.

“I’ve barely made any progress in months.”

“Maybe moving it will help,” Aridatha offered. Weythran looked up at her, and she elaborated, “You’ll – _we’ll_ – need to disassemble it and pack it up. Maybe taking it apart like that will help you see it in a new light and make some kind of breakthrough.”

It was almost pathetic, the way Weythran perked up. His spines had been positively drooping. Cypress picked up the theme and added, “We’ll help you. I’m sure between the three of us we can figure it out.”

That didn’t work as well, bringing a scowl to Weythran’s face. “I’ve been working on this for ages. What makes you think you can just come in here and do it better than I did?”

Cypress winced. “Foot, mouth. Sorry.”

The idea of remaining to painstakingly deconstruct the entire project didn’t appeal to Aridatha, either. She had other tasks waiting for her, but certainly _someone_ needed to do it. “Cypress, you can help him. I’ll send Kelsus and Lailyn in too, and we’ll pack it onto Geras’ next flight.”

She could see Cypress’ feathers sag as he realized that he’d volunteered himself for the job, but he didn’t argue. Aridatha just hoped the whole thing wasn’t too heavy for Geras to carry.


	11. Chapter 11

Aridatha was the last to leave the lair.

Lioska waited, impatiently. Nesita had elected to remain at her post in the new hatchery, afraid she would be overcome if she had to say goodbye to her home. Aridatha was finding it difficult herself, and she hadn’t lived here long. It wasn’t homesickness, exactly – she just couldn’t shake the feeling that she was forgetting something. Surely somewhere in this warren of tunnels there were still goods to move, curtains to take down, books to pack. Surely they didn’t really have _everything_.

She hadn’t even seen the new lair yet. Something in her said that she should be the last to leave, when it was all complete, although gods knew she could have been of use, organizing the construction. She’d seen Nessa’s drawings, though, and Lioska’s letters; she would just have to pray that she didn’t walk into a clearing full of crooked walls and sagging roofs. And Nessa was there, too – she hadn’t come back to the old lair, her skills being too much in demand. Lioska had only returned because she had, somewhere, gotten the idea that she needed to escort Aridatha across the mountains and through the woods.

Aridatha looked around the tunnel and let out a sigh. Of course, she was suddenly filled with doubts about the whole idea, now that it was too late to go back. She put her claws up to the pink stone, which sparkled and shone in the morning light.

“Goodbye,” she murmured. She was carrying two pearls: her own, small and secret, and the one that had been Nessa’s. “Goodbye, Crystalspine.”

Turning, Aridatha stepped out of the tunnel and into the light.


	12. Chapter 12

Aridatha and Lioska reached their destination at twilight, when the first little lights were beginning to twinkle amongst the branches above them. They gave the forest an eerie, bluish glow. The light gleamed off the ridges of crystal, almost hidden now by lean-tos and constructions, and glinted on the hides of the dragons waiting for them.

Frip was there, her wings like mirrors, and Acrux, and Sunfall. Aridatha waved to return their greetings as she looked around. Nearby, a stream spilled over the edge of the southwestern ridge, creating a gentle waterfall. That area had already been partially fenced off, and Aridatha could see centaurs and serthis erecting their own shelters within. The brook carried on, pooling in the center of the lair and then flowing away to the northeast. Between the ridges nestled many of the great Starwood trees, and now buildings clung to their trunks, large open halls on the first floor and more delicate spaces above.

“Ari!” Nessa said, fluttering down to land on Lioska’s back. “What do you think?”

“It looks beautiful,” Aridatha said, and swallowed the rest of the sentence, which would have otherwise been _and so do you_. It had been a long time since she’d seen Nessa, and the blue light set off purple highlights in the fae’s folded wings.

“Lioska, we have to show her our tree.” Nessa flew an excited loop around Aridatha and then off into the forest, looking back over her shoulder. “Come on!”

Aridatha followed, still looking around with interest. Glowing bundles – mostly pocket baubles and kunzite crystals, if Aridatha remembered her recent inventory work correctly – hung from the trees, lighting their way. To her left, Aridatha saw Iburel and Talva lounging between two trees – and the structures that clung to the trees. The ridgeback was laughing.

“These are our quarters,” Lioska said, indicating the tree ahead of them. The shelter built around its trunk rose far into the air, tiered like a cake. The ground floor was mostly open, and someone had left a handful of weapons in a corner. Lioska stepped inside and poked around briefly. “Sunfall has the ground floor, which will also be our training grounds. I’m above him, and then you’re on the third floor.”

“And I’m up in the canopy,” Nessa said, hanging from a thin branch. Her weight made the shining leaves bounce, leaving radiant trails in the air behind them.

Aridatha circled the building. The pond was nearby, the lights dancing on its surface. Laughter rose from somewhere on the far side; it sounded like one of the larger dragons.

“You can climb up here,” Lioska said, pointing to the tree trunk, and Aridatha quickly scrambled up onto the second floor, into Lioska’s own chamber. It was spacious though fairly barren at the moment; Aridatha could see a map rolled out on the floor, stones holding down its corners. Lioska came up after her, adding, “Or you can fly in, if you don’t want to disturb your neighbors.”

“Do I disturb you?” Aridatha said, half-joking, not really thinking about her words.

Lioska smiled a thin, restrained smile. “Hardly.”

“Come on, then,” Nessa called from above, and Aridatha clambered up to her own chamber. Someone had taken the time to bring up a featherback pelt for her to sleep on, and set bits of crystal into the walls. If her room was smaller than Lioska’s, well, Aridatha herself was smaller than Lioska.

Nessa landed next to Aridatha. “I’d show you my nest, too, but I don’t think the branches up there would take your weight.”

“That’s all right,” Aridatha said. “You’re welcome here any time.”

“Get some sleep,” Lioska suggested from below. “In the morning we have work rosters to organize, territory to patrol, hunting to do …”

Nessa giggled and nestled into the boar pelt. “I thought you’d like it, Ari.”

“I do,” Aridatha said, curling around the fae. “I really do.”


End file.
